


Happiness is a mat that sits on her doorway

by whowhatsitwhich



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, sort of a holiday fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 11:26:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5332445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whowhatsitwhich/pseuds/whowhatsitwhich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl was dead on his feet and all he wanted in that moment was a hot shower and to fall into bed for at least twelve hours. And for the woman to haul her ass home so he could go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happiness is a mat that sits on her doorway

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AlannasTara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlannasTara/gifts).



> Written in response to a prompt from Liddym2113 for a Christmas AU: "I work as a bartender and you’re here at 3 am on Christmas Eve taking shots because you got dumped and I really just wanna go home and sleep but now you’re crying and I feel bad” AU -- CARYL

 

Last call was a half-hour ago but the gal at the end of the bar showed no sign of taking off any time soon. Daryl watched her from the corner of his eye as he finished stacking glasses. Her dark brown eyes were blood shot and she was fighting her tears every step of the way.

He glanced at the clock and heaved a sigh. Three am. Daryl was dead on his feet and all he wanted in that moment was a hot shower and to fall into bed for at least twelve hours. And for the woman to haul her ass home so he could go. The sniffle from the end of the bar made him want to beat his head against the wall. She was crying, for fucks sake. Again.

A frantic look around the room confirmed what he already knew…the damned place was deserted. He shoved his hands in his pocket and sidled over. “Hey,” he ventured. “You need me to call you a cab or something?”

She stiffened and hurriedly wiped her damp cheeks on her sleeve before looking up. “No, my friend is coming to get me. I’m sorry.” Her eyes welled up again and she cursed under her breath. “I feel like shit. You’re having to stay late because of me. She should be here soon.”

Shrugging uncomfortably, Daryl waved her protests aside. “Ain’t no big deal. Still got a few things to finish up. Don’t worry about it.” He jerked a red rag out of his back pocket and made a few halfhearted swipes on the dull wooden surface. “Look,” he faltered when she looked at him again. “Whatever happened, it happened. You can start over. Fuck that prick.”

A muffled laugh escaped her as the girl daubed her wet cheeks with the sleeve. “Thanks,” she murmured. “She said she’d be here around nine and the she wouldn’t answer her phone or text. Like I said, I’m a dumb ass.” His owl eyed look brought another snort of laughter. “That’s right, handsome, I like girls.” She seemed to brighten at his growing discomfort. “With those arms and gorgeous blue eyes, you did get a second look. Hell, I ain’t blind.”

Daryl wished he was a thousand miles away, hating that she’d gotten under his skin so easily but it was almost worth it to have the water works put on hold. Growing up with Merle had taught him a thing or two about letting shit roll off his back. “Want a cup of Joe?” He offered. “I was gonna fix some for me.” When she nodded, he grabbed the rarely used pot and filled it with water. “I’m Daryl.”

“Tara. It’s good to meet you.”

The silence stretched out between them, broken only by the hiss and steam of the coffee maker. Daryl filled a mug and set it at her elbow along with a couple of packs of sugar and cream. Tara stirred one of each into the dark brew and then took a hesitant sip, letting out a deep breath as the warm liquid slid down her throat. “It’s good,” she muttered.

“Almost strong enough to get out of the cup,” he returned, downing half the cup in one swallow. Daryl noticed the door opening and called out, “Sorry, we’re closed.”

A tiny slip of a woman stopped just inside, wearing a stricken expression. “I’m sorry but I’m supposed to pick up a friend here. She wasn’t outside.” Her eyes settled on Tara and a relieved smile swept her features. “There you are, Tara. I was worried sick when I didn’t see you. Are you ready to go?”

“Let me finish my coffee,” the girl answered and took another slow sip from her cup. “Maybe we can sweet talk Daryl here into giving you a cup. It’s freezing outside.” The edges of her lips turned up when Daryl took the hint and plunked another mug on the bar.

He then busied himself stocking the bar for the following day, catching only bits and pieces of the conversation. The friend interested him though he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was about her that drew his attention. She was a little bitty thing, slender but curved where it counted. Her china blue eyes took on a silvery cast in the dim lighting over the bar; her short hair a similar hue where it curled about her ears. She was as serene as the dark haired Tara was fiery, listening closely as she savored her coffee in leisurely sips.

“Francine,” Tara drew out the syllables, imbuing them with contempt. “She couldn’t be bothered to do the polite thing, oh no. Probably got off on the idea of my sitting here waiting like an idiot.”

“It’s her loss,” the other woman chimed in. “She doesn’t deserve another second of your time. We’ll go back to the house, sleep late, and then we’ll have a big Christmas breakfast. I’ll fix those muffins that you like so much.” She finished her coffee and darted an apologetic look in Daryl’s direction. “I’m sure you have some place to be so we’ll get out of here and let you close up.”

Daryl took the proffered mug and bobbed his head in acknowledgement. “No problem.” He didn’t notice the pink that suffused her cheeks when their fingers brushed. He didn’t but Tara did and hid a smile behind her mug as she downed the dregs.

She pushed the cup across the bar and snagged a pen lying loose on the bar, scrawling something on the back of her paper coaster. Tara offered up a smile as she handed him a few bills with the little piece of cardboard folded in the middle. “Thanks again,” the girl murmured, her accompanying smile carrying a mischievous cast. “And Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” Daryl echoed and watched as the two women slipped out into the night. He sorted the bills and put them in the register before picking up the coaster and glancing at the back. Written in curly cue script was a phone number and the name Carol, underlined twice and book ended with smiley faces. Daryl shook his head, smiling to himself as he stuck the paper into his front pocket.


End file.
